Versailles

In August 1971, we went by train to Brittany, via Paris and Versailles. The youth hostel in central Paris seemed rather anarchic and a little scary, in an “anything goes” sort of way. It was most unlike any others that we had been to before. The various comings and goings kept us awake for much of the night. When we made our escape in the morning, we had to pick our way out between people still asleep on mattresses that had been somewhat precariously laid down on the staircase.

In marked contrast, the formal affluence of the 17th century Palace of Versailles was next on our itinerary. I remember being struck by the sheer opulence and splendour of the place, especially the extraordinary Hall of Mirrors. It was probably the first “stately home” I’d ever been in and it certainly left an impression.

In retrospect, we were lucky to be able to get about so readily. Whilst studying, we were dependent on earnings from part-time jobs and the extraordinary generosity of our hard-working parents, who were certainly not wealthy, but who wanted us to have opportunities to travel for pleasure that had not been so readily available to them in their youth. I remain enormously grateful to them. I just hope that I told them so at the time.

Please note the fashionable, dual purpose rucksacks that we had chosen for our journey.